


Full Parameter Breach

by misura



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey is in control. (Or, well, he <i>should</i> be.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Parameter Breach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesfortravellers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/gifts).



Casey had faced off against some of the most hardened criminals and warlords that used to be out there, before meeting with an unfortunate 'accident' that had nothing to do with the US government and everything to do with some sudden irrational desire to go swimming in the middle of the night, or go bungee jumping without a bungee cord or something along those lines.

He was _tough_ , was what he was. Unafraid of anything or anyone out there. He'd come face to face with the worst scum of the earth and sent it packing.

He was -

"John?"

\- just going to keep on walking, no really; he was going, going, going. Any moment now. That hand on his shoulder did not know yet how much trouble it was going to be in - its owner clearly was no match for Casey, who knew at least sixteen ways to grab a man by the shoulder to freeze him in his tracks. Some of them even had a nice bonus feature in that they also literally paralyzed your victim - not that a good agent _needed_ tricks like that, of course. It was all about personality. Knowing what you wanted and making sure the other guy knew it, too.

"Not leaving without a good night kiss, are you?"

Casey turned around. Slowly. _Deceptively_ slowly. First rule of combat: always make your opponent underestimate you. Smile. Pretend. Wait for the right moment.

"Who, me? Wouldn't dream of it."

Devon smiled back, clearly buying the act like the idiot he was. "Good. C'mon then."

Second rule of combat: always choose your ground. "Oh, I really don't - "

"Don't worry, she's still awake. Light sleeper, you know."

Casey had infiltrated enemy installations and headquarters. He'd even done it naked, one time - and dressed in a ballgown, another time, although that hadn't made it into the official report, thanks for the General cutting him some slack by way of thanking him for making the CIA look like the bunch of incompetent ninnies that they were.

He'd escaped from some of the most well-guarded prison camps that officially didn't exist without anyone even raising the alarm until after the first explosion.

"Didn't mean to wake her."

"Well, bro, you know what they say about good intentions." Devon slapped him on the shoulder. "How about making it up to her with a nice kiss, hm? Got to keep the lady of the house happy."

Casey summoned the man-to-man grin this comment seemed to call for. "Kind of tired," he offered.

"You do know I'm a doctor, right? Looks to me, you're plenty good to go." Devon's hand wandered a little - or, well, a whole lot lower than Casey's shoulder. "Now, it could be that you _think_ you're tired, in which case: trust me, I'm a doctor. Or it could be that you're lying to me. Are you lying to me, John?"

Casey had first-hand experience with some of the most ruthless interrogation methods - and not as the guy asking the questions. He'd withstood torture, spent days without food or water or sleep. He'd never been broken. Every two months, he subjected himself to three hours of the most gruesome questioning methods known to man, commonly known as 'the bi-monthly psych evaluation' in the NSA's sound-proofed, padded-walled psych department.

They knew about Mr. Bear, and that he'd had a cat as a child, but the rest of it, the _important_ stuff, he'd kept from them still. They couldn't break him either - not with the 'sing-along' excercise, nor with the 'show and tell' and definitely not with the 'free association game'.

Devon Woodcomb was just a civilian. Casey could look him straight in the eyes and lie through his teeth. "I ... " he started. "I ... "

"Don't think you're going anywhere tonight but back to bed, bro," Devon said.

Casey relaxed his body. "Guess you're right."

Devon squeezed his shoulder. Casey managed not to wince or pull away or hit him. "That's the spirit."

As soon as Devon let down his guard, Casey promised himself, he'd make a run for it.

Really. Any moment now.


End file.
